* * *
Hours later,Jason lay on his floor, alternating sit-ups and push-ups in an effort to distract himself from his vice. Only problem was, he could smell Selene. Ripe mango and vanilla. She was right outside his door. There were other smells: food, breakfast he assumed. But his brain dismissed everything except the scent of the female. His inner wolf paced restlessly, eager to be in the presence of a woman. “Not this one,” Jason said under his breath. “This one is seriously off-limits.”
Unlocking the door, he passed through the short corridor into the great room, frowning when he saw a pallet of blankets on the floor next to the sofa. Beside it rested the ugliest brown plaid bag he’d ever seen. Was that her luggage? Had she slept on the floor last night? He clenched a fist against his stomach. Why hadn’t Silas set her up in the guest room?
After a cursory check of the penthouse, he glimpsed her silhouette through the morning dew on the glass door to his balcony. Quietly he slipped outside. She’d exchanged her silk robe for jeans that bagged in all the wrong places and a T-shirt he found wholly unacceptable. Her complicated chignon was gone, replaced with a ponytail.
Legs crisscrossed on the concrete, her eyes were closed, her back straight, hands folded in her lap. He stepped around her. That couldn’t be comfortable. It was cold out there, the spring chill hanging in the morning air. She should have a mat or, better yet, a chair under her.
“Why didn’t you sleep in the guest room last night?” he said sharply. More sharply than he’d intended.
Her eyes opened, the sunrise constricting her pupils and turning her irises an intense shade of violet. He had to consciously stop himself from gasping. His lips parted, and he just took her in. A flock of black birds chose that moment to take off from the roof, their flapping wings and excited caws contradicting the weighty silence of her presence. Selene owned her space. The effect was intense.
“Good morning,” she said, her soft smile belying her intense gaze. “I wasn’t comfortable settling into your guest room without your permission. I’m here to help you, not to make myself at home.”
Jason tried to respond, but the words stuck in his throat. He wiped a hand over his mouth and cleared the thickness from his vocal cords. “I… I can’t have you sleeping on the floor. Come with me.” Roughly he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her off the concrete and through the glass door. Aside from a guttural grunt, she didn’t protest, though he suspected he was being too rough with her.
Moving like this, dragging her behind him like a child, kept him from thinking of her as a woman. He couldn’t afford to look at her too closely or to consider the way her cotton T-shirt hugged her curves, not with his wolf pressing against his skin. Not with the crawling need that had kept him up all night.
He swept her ugly brown bag into the crook of his arm and lifted the pallet from the floor. He didn’t stop until they were standing in his guest room. This room doubled as a library and was the one room in the house he’d decorated himself. Dark wood bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with his favorite novels. A queen-size bed covered in a plush comforter in rich sapphire tones stood at the center of the room, bracketed by walnut end tables that matched a writing desk near the window. He tossed her things at the end of the bed. “Until I can convince Silas to end this, you’ll stay in here. Understand?”
“Okay,” she said, absently scanning the shelves.
“It would help if you told Silas you wanted to go.”
That earned him her full attention. “But you need me.”
He scanned her critically from head to toe and scoffed. “No, sweetheart. Look at you. This whole thing… It’s way out of your league.”
“Look atme?” Her brow puckered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re not exactly dressed to sit at the adult table.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Come on. You’re celibate. You know as well as I do you’ve bitten off more than you can chew with me. Do yourself a favor and ask to be removed from my case.” He backed out the door.
“I’ll do no such thing!” Selene protested, marching after him, back into the living room.
He stopped short when he saw the source of the breakfast smells and she almost rammed into his back. The kitchen counter was laden with pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, fresh coffee.
“I made you breakfast,” Selene said from behind him. “It should still be hot.”
He sighed. Most of the time the hollow feeling inside his abdomen was suppressed, hidden under the layers of constant wanting that drove his every decision. But now, seeing it all there, he almost felt hungry. “I don’t usually eat breakfast.”
“No kidding. Your refrigerator was a graveyard of half-empty take-out containers.”
“Where did you even find the food?”
“I brought it with me. It’s part of the regimen. You’ll eat six times a day. Your body needs to be strong and healthy if we’re going to beat this thing.”
“Healthy.” Jason’s eyes drifted to the bar near the fireplace and widened when he found it empty. “What happened to the wine? The Macallan? The Pappy Bourbon?”
“Had to dump it,” Selene said sadly. She shrugged. “Using it would interfere with our progress.”
Jason’s hands dug into his hair. “That was thousands of dollars of top shelf!”
Her laugh rang through the room like a bell, and he glared at her in horror.
“Relax, I didn’t actually pour it down the drain,” she said. “Silas took it for safekeeping. You can have it back when you’re better.”
He dropped into a chair at the white oak table and rubbed his forehead. “So… the acolyte has a sense of humor. A cruel but existent sense of humor.”
